Dreams and Nightmares
by jillyfae
Summary: Short fic, primarily from prompts on tumblr, all around and about Thedas. Explicit chapters are on AO3.
1. before she was Isabela

_Originally prompted by cheesiestart for an au meme: Isabela, secretly a virgin. I couldn't quite manage an AU, and ended up with this prequel instead._

* * *

"But I didn't do anything!" She was having trouble not crying, a sniffle in her nose and a burn in her throat and dampness in her eyes.

Her mother didn't care, scowling and very pointedly _not yelling._

"What you may or may not have done is irrelevant now. What matters is what people believe you may have done. And with the rumors? We're lucky he didn't pull back his offer."

"But I don't want to marry him!"

"Well no one else will have you, and I can't afford to support you into useless spinsterhood." Her mother sniffed. Just that. And then left.

Apparently she was more traditional than she thought. She'd be a virgin on her wedding night. Hopefully her fiance would improve on longer acquaintance.

_I'll do this right. For once you'll be proud of me. All of you._


	2. Best Intentions

_promptfic for lyndztanica: "The Hawke kids at the holidays, trying to make something to surprise their parents?"_

* * *

"Feast-day was yesterday, Carver." Bethany rocked up onto her toes, her hands clenched around the edge of her apron as Carver practically climbed all the way into the pantry, digging for something away in the back.

He just grunted in response, though she could pretty clearly imagine the look on his face as he rolled his eyes at her.

He finally slithered back out again, a loud thump as his boots hit the floor, and turned around to grin at her. "Found 'em."

"Raisins? Really, Carver, _what are you doing?_"

"We," he rather pointedly glared at her, "are making Papa's favorite stew for dinner, and a fresh loaf of Mama's cinnamon bread, and you will finish that braided rug you were working on, while I finish the leather straps for Papa and the mabari."

"A day late?"

"Well, they never let us alone before hand, now did they?"

They rather hadn't, the few moons being oddly hectic, and Papa moving slower than usual, having come down with some sort of lingering cough that even his magic couldn't heal.

They deserved something nice, didn't they? "Satinalia day two?"

Carver shrugged, half awkward and half hopeful.

He was trying so hard to make everything better.

Bethany smiled. "Alright then. Move over, I'll find the cinnamon."


	3. Archery Appreciation

_**twistedsinews**__ requested: "DA:A Allowed? Because I could totally go for some Nate teaching Sigrun archery."_

* * *

"You want what?" Nathaniel could feel his eyebrow lift as he stared at Sigrun's face as she tilted back on her heels to smile at him.

"Archery lessons. You know. How to make the pointy end fly through the air and hit the 'spawn before they're close enough to hit back? I think that sounds like fun."

"Well, I've always …" Nathaniel trailed off. Yes, he thought it was fun too. But he'd never heard of a dwarf archer. "I'm not sure we have anything the …. right … size?" He only barely managed not to mention the fact that he was pretty sure he owned bows taller than she was; he tended towards old-fashioned long bows rather than crossbows or short bows.

Her smile broadened into a full grin, the flash of teeth bright in contrast to her brands. "Come on, don't you have a little one from when you were in short pants? Everyone's gotta start somewhere."

"I suppose Seneschal Varel might know where the old weapons from the armoury are stored …"

She practically skipped down the hallway towards the Seneschal's office. He just sighed and followed. It was useless to argue, after all. No one else ever won against her.


	4. A little help from your friends

**atomicpen** requested:

DA Satinalia-related. Because holiday spirit and why not?

_Why not indeed? 3_

* * *

Anders found a basket of kittens outside the Clinic's doors. They were fast asleep, all tangled together and wrapped up in a scrap of blanket. It was a knobbly, textured sort of knit, in shades of brown and green, some style he'd never seen before, but it was soft and warm, and already full of kitten hair, so he left it where it was without thinking too much about it.

Aveline thought quite a lot about the box that showed up on her desk. There were two hats, two scarves, and two sets of exceedingly thin mittens with strips of leather woven in between the yarn, so the wearer could still grip a sword through them.

One set was rather a distinctive orange color, very close to the same shade as her hair, and the other ...

The other was precisely as warm and soft as Donnic's eyes.

Fenris kept finding socks and small fingerless gloves.

Everywhere.

In his belt pouch.

On his pillow.

Under his bed.

Lying on his kitchen counter.

Ridiculous bright colors, red and yellow and green and blue and purple.

Purple socks.

Ludicrous.

But the gloves were fine enough he could tend his sword and armour without needing to take them off.

And the socks were very warm and soft when he curled up in front of his fireplace to practice his reading.

Not that he would admit that out loud.

Ever.

Sister Etheline brought a paper wrapped package to Sebastian's door, smiling as she claimed it had been left for him in the kitchens. She'd almost winked, in fact, an observation that had brought Sebastian perilously close to a laugh.

Etheline was a lovely good woman, and one of the few in the Chantry who seemed to like Hawke, and quite definitely the only one who seemed to approve of Sebastian's friendship with the ragtag group of not-quite-mercenaries who were attempting to clean up Kirkwall.

He started to unwrap it after she left, carefully untying the cord and peeling back the paper so it could be reused, until his hands clenched at the first clear sight of the fabric inside, the tear of paper loud in his silent cell.

He could hear his own breath as he sighed a moment later, shaky and uneven, fingertips gentle against the soft cloth. Most people, when they thought of Starkhaven, remembered the white and gold of the Vael family's banners, or the red and black of the city seal.

Very few cared about the clans who used to fill the mountains.

Someone knew, though.

Sebastian smiled as he pulled the rest of the paper off, admiring the bright reds and blues and greens of the blanket. He shook it out, found himself wondering briefly what it was made out of, lighter and softer than wool, stronger than linen. It was knitted, rather than woven, so it wasn't quite a proper tartan blanket, but the colors were perfect, one thin line of yellow almost hidden in the twisted braid of the pattern along the edges.

His smile widened into a grin as he smoothed the blanket over the foot of his bed. It brightened up the whole room.

Isabela closed her eyes, trying not to wince in anticipation of the unpleasant clang of glass that always greeted her when she reached into the chest where she kept her potions and poisons.

She blinked, instead, at the very subtle bump that was all that she heard when her fingers brushed against the first smooth cool neck of glass. Tilting her head, she took a proper look, and burst out laughing.

Every single bottle had a new open-work cozy, thickly braided yarn in an almost sling cushioning each and every one as they sat next to each other.

There were even a few extra sets in a pile on one side of the chest, ready and waiting for whatever she decided to buy or make next.

There were pillows everywhere in the Amell estate.

A giant one on the hearth in the main room, already full of mabari hair.

Several different colored medium ones, on almost every single chair or sofa or bench in the entire house.

Sandal and the mabari had finally worn themselves out, after an epic pillow fight that had ranged back and forth over the entire house, and collapsed on a pile of them they'd collected in front of the study fireplace.

You could hear their snoring all the way up to the second floor landing.

Leandra kept laughing, every time she found a new one. Right until she found the smallest one of all, the cover a twist of white crochet to look just like a bloom of Andraste's Grace, resting right in the middle of her bed. Then she smiled.

Hawke had one too, though it was red, the bloom in the middle shaped like a rose.

_Dearest Varric,_

_Thank you ever so much for finding a merchant with halla yarn for me last year. I hope it didn't cost you too much? I finished everyone else's feast-day present in plenty of time._

_Though I have no idea where you found so many pillows for me to cover. Thank you. Do you think they'll like them? I do so hope so. The Estate is so big and empty some days, I thought it needed filling up._

_I was going to make you a blanket, like Sebastian's, only all red and thick and square like those statues that lined the roads in the Deep Roads, for those nights you feel extra dwarfy._

_But no one really likes the Deep Roads anymore._

_And besides, you have all that lovely chest hair to keep you warm, so you probably don't even need a blanket, do you?_

_But you tell the nicest stories, so I thought maybe you'd like this better. I'm not nearly as good at telling them as Hahren Paivel, but I wrote down some of my favorites for you._

Varric smoothed the parchment carefully under his hand, before folding the letter and sliding it inside the small book he'd found on his table. It was a dark green leather, a paler green line tying down the spine and trim, with tiny neat yellow stitches in the middle of the cover forming the cheerful petals of a daisy.


	5. Sanctuary

_ERK. Found another gift!fic I deleted. An AU version of the Adelaide Hawke/Sebastian Vael romance I cleaned up and posted for tarysande. Here you go again dear, sorry._

* * *

**The City of Kirkwall **  
**Wishes to Recognize **  
**the Strength and Bravery of**  
**The Champion, **  
**Lady Amell, Adelaide Hawke **  
**at a Reception in Her Honour **  
**this 17th Day of Cloudreach, 9:35**

**You Shall be Welcomed at the Viscount's Keep**  
**at one-half-candle after dusk.**

_Hawke: _  
_Pick an appropriate escort, find some decent clothes, and for the Maker's sake, (not to mention mine), don't carry any visible weapons. Also if you could manage not to insult the other guests, I would appreciate the effort._

_Seneschal Bran_

* * *

"You look lovely, Hawke."

A familiar, precious voice spoke from the top of the stairs, and Adelaide relaxed against the banister with a contented sigh, letting her invitation and Bran's letter slide out of her fingers to the floor.

_Deal with that later._

"Thank you." She turned her head slightly, admiring the view as he approached through the gloom, the dark grey of his suit blending into the shadows of the unlit landing, a contrast from his usual gleaming white armor. _Always the handsome Prince, however. As if there was any doubt._ "But... Hawke? Should I start calling you Vael, then?"

"If you'd like." Sebastian stopped just a few steps away, smiling down at her with a slight tilt of his head. "Wasn't sure you'd appreciate the familiarity, tonight. The gossips will assume, well, all the things gossips tend to assume about the recently famous. Or infamous."

"Oh, they'll think I've corrupted the nice chantry boy? I like that." She shrugged slightly, returning his smile as she glanced over at him through her eyelashes. "Much better then too many questions about how I beat the Arishok, after all. I'd rather not have to talk about being a mage, even if it is now public knowledge."

"Ah, so that's why you accepted my invitation to escort you? To distract the nobles?"

"No," Adelaide whispered softly, stepping away from the half-wall she'd been leaning against and smoothing down the front of her dress, the unexpected heat rising across her cheeks forcing her to keep her face aimed down at the floor. _Mustn't tell you I wanted to pretend, just for a night, that such rumors could be true._

"No?"

"Well, it was either you or Varric. Aveline's working, and no one else thought showing their face at the Keep was a grand idea." She forced a light smile on her face before finally looking up into Sebastian's face. "And have you seen him dance?"

He chuckled softly, though she thought she saw a hint of something, sad, perhaps, flash through his eyes. "I should warn you, I do have an ulterior motive. Being seen with The Champion can only help the reputation of Starkhaven's Prince, and since I'm leaving on the morrow to investigate my cousin..."

Surprise sharpened her voice. "You're leaving! Now?" _You'd leave me alone? After everything?_

"I have to," Sebastian stuttered uncertainly, as if surprised himself by her interruption. "We were talking about it, before?" He shifted slightly, his shrug encompassing the past few weeks of lunacy with graceful eloquence. "Kirkwall is safe, for now, thanks to you. And I cannot put off my responsibilities any longer. However much I might, prefer..." He trailed off slowly, his gaze warm as he smiled softly at her.

_Oh, he has such beautiful, kind eyes. And I am a horrible, horrible person. Stop fantasizing about your best friend, self._ Adelaide dropped her gaze from his, again, trying to control her reactions. But that meant she was staring right at his velvet-clad chest, which was Not Helping. Swallowing, she took a step back and turned blindly towards the window, eyes closed as she tried to shut down her imagination. She could very clearly picture the play of muscles as he drew his bow, however, or did... other... things.

"Adelaide?" His hand was warm on her shoulder, his voice soft and sweet, and all she could think was how very long it had been since she had done... other... things herself. "What's wrong?"

She turned towards him, opening her mouth to make some stupid joke about not knowing what to do with her hands in finery instead of robes or leathers, no stave on her back, _or something_ , but her body overrode her brain, and instead she leaned forward the slightest bit, and pressed her lips to his. Her entire body flushed with delicious warmth for just a moment, until her brain grabbed control again, and she took a step back in horrified panic, her eyes flying open as she backed herself into the wall between the windows.

"I'm sor-"

Sebastian's arms wrapped around her, his mouth on hers again before she could finish. She grunted softly in surprise, deep in her throat, before tilting her head slightly to match the passion of his kiss with pressure of her own. Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders, one hand cradling the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair. He held her so tightly against his chest she could barely breathe, and oh, she didn't give a damn, pushing herself against him as hard as she could, long years of frustrated denial forgotten now that she finally had the taste of him in her mouth, along her tongue, the warmth of him a burning brand down the length of her body.

A short eternity of delight, before he pulled his head back, just enough to speak, his breath heavy against her face. "Don't you dare apologize."

"Never," she breathed out softly. "But, I thought you, I mean, what just... we just?"

His arms loosened as he started inching carefully backwards, his sharp gaze intent on her face until he reached the bench by the head of the stairs, pulling her down to sit next to him, hip to hip. "I wasn't going to say this now, but... I would offer you no less than a Prince. For The Champion. The strongest alliance the Free Marches have ever seen. When I am successful, would you consider it? Us? Together?"

"Together? Us?" _For The Champion, not Adelaide._ "An alliance. For the good of Starkhaven?" She slid her hand out of his grasp, standing up, taking a step back, two, three, trying to think. _Obviously he wants me, as much as I want him, but is that it? Just lust? A political alliance with benefits?_

"You're the one who convinced me to continue what I'd started," Sebastian spoke slowly, his hand clenching slightly around empty air as she backed away from him. "To fight for the memory of my family. To do what needed to be done, rather than retreat back to the comfort of the Chantry, because my people were more important then my oaths." He paused, she could hear him swallow as he glanced down, briefly, his eyes flickering quickly back up to her face. "As protecting the people of Kirkwall had to be more important to you."

_He's the one, the only one who knows how close I came to handing Isabela over, to betraying her to them as she almost betrayed me, in order to save the City._

"I," Adelaide closed her eyes, trying not to cry. "Of course. I just." She turned away, trying to swallow the sudden lump in her throat, trying not to remember the feel of his heat just moments ago. Of his arms holding her when she'd cried. After Carver, after Mother...

_How can I ask more from him, when he's already given so much?_

The softest tap of his shoe against the floor as he stood, moved one step closer, following her retreat. "Just what?"

"I never wanted to be The Champion. And I certainly never wanted that to be why you, or I." Hawke stopped, taking a deep breath and turning around, staring at him in determination. "I don't want politics from you, Sebastian."

"Really?" Another step closer, his eyes filling her gaze. "I did not think that you'd accept more than politics. Everything you have ever done was to keep other people safe. I was afraid, if I told you I'd forgo it all to follow you wherever you went, to abandon my people, to live with you in Hightown, or Darktown, or traipsing down the Wounded Coast, I'd lose what little of your respect I might have managed to earn, and I could bear that even less then," his voice dropped to a whisper, "even less then the thought of never getting to feel your lips on mine again."

"Oh," Adelaide breathed out softly, her heart aching in her chest, her fingers trembling.

"We both know I'm impulsive." His lips curved into a wry half-smile. "And I'm certain my people, if they are ever to be my people again, would appreciate your tempering influence. But you... THIS. Is not an impulse." He was even closer now, close enough she could feel the lift of his chest when he took a breath between words. "I have desired you since the day I met you. I have respected you since you showed me you were a mage, despite the dangers, because it was more important to help me than yourself. And I think I realized I was in love with you when you told me to be sure to scrub behind my ears to get all the evil out."

_Love?_

"See, I knew I was funny." Her voice echoed the trembling that had spread from her fingertips to the rest of her body, so light-headed she had trouble hearing her own voice.

"Not really, no." His hand finally reached across the short distance between them, cupping her cheek.

She sighed softly, leaning into his touch again rather then pulling away, her eyelashes damp as she blinked, her body settling back under her control. "So insulting my sense of humor is your idea of a seduction?"

"Oh, this is much more than just a seduction, Adelaide." His voice was soft, his brogue thick and lingering against her skin as she listened to him in the dark behind closed eyes. "After all these years, I'd think you'd know me better than that."

"I do." Her heart was beating hard, an ache within her chest, she didn't want to ruin this, but... she lifted her head and her eyelids, meeting his gaze directly. "What then, is this a proposal?"

"No." His voice was suddenly hard, sharp-edged with regret. "I knelt before the Maker and swore I would take no bride before Andraste. I may be foresworn, but I can only bend so far. I can never marry you."

She closed her eyes briefly, her heart aching with an echo of both relief and regret, followed by a surge of pride in this man, and his honor. _A treasure beyond price._ Her eyes opened, her hand reaching up to cup his where it still rested against her face. "Then what are you asking?"

"That even without vows, you would consent to sit with me when I face my people, to fight at my back when we confront our enemies." A second hand reached up to hold her other cheek, his eyes burning as he stared into her face. She felt the heat in her cheeks fade, start to gather again in a tight coil low in her body. "To sleep in my arms at night, so I can adore you until you call my name out with pleasure."

Her breath fled her body in a ragged sigh, heat spreading in a wave as she thought of him in her arms, between her legs, night after night. Her hands moved, tangling themselves tight in his hair, pulling her mouth to his with a sudden fierce determination she no longer needed to try and hide. _This, oh this_, even her thoughts felt breathless with need, _I want this, every day._

She tugged back on his hair until their mouths parted, as she tried to remember how to speak.

"Andraste's Grace," he murmured before she'd managed a single word, "please tell me that was a yes."

"I love you, too," she blurted out, "I didn't say that, when you did, but I do. Only you. For years. Maker's blessing or not, I will love you faithfully until the day I die. And I'm babbling, I'll just stop," she trailed off in embarrassment. "I've been spending too much time with Merrill."

"Years?"

"My secret shame." _That Isabela absolutely picked up on and teased me about. She and Varric are going to be impossible tomorrow._ "The handsome Brother with the beautiful voice. And you were so nice, all the time. And then your family, and I saw you shoot, and despite some initial qualms you didn't actually turn anyone in to the Templars, and you worried, but you never judged, and you're... just... perfect."

"I am very far from perfect."

"For me, you are." The sudden surge of bravery faded, and she ducked her head, her voice soft. "But if you do not spend this night with me, before you leave, you will break my heart."

"A gift much too precious to risk bruising, much less breaking. I would be honored." A single bent finger, the callus along the knuckle rough under her chin, the simple touch lifting her face towards his again. He kissed her, gently, his lips sending a sweet shiver down her spine. "I don't believe I could resist, in all honesty."

"Then let's not even try." It was her turn to step backwards, tugging gently at his hands to lead him towards her bedroom door.

Instead he planted his feet, shaking his head sadly. "Not that I wish to change direction, but we are both expected elsewhere. By people whose goodwill we can't afford to lose."

"Maker's..." Adelaide's body fell forward, pulling her back into his arms, her head landing on Sebastian's chest with a thump. "Couldn't I just send Seneschal Bran my regrets? I'm sure he wouldn't hold it against me every single day for the rest of my life... much."

"I shall escort you, messere Hawke, and I shall keep an eye out for an early escape route." He chuckled softly, gently smoothing his hand over the elaborate braids Orana had somehow forced her hair to hold. "I'm afraid that's the best I can offer."

"Then it shall have to do, my Prince." She took a careful step back, smoothing the front of her dress yet again. She spun in a slow circle, trying to see if they'd wrinkled it during their back and forth across the landing. "How's my dress?"

"You are simply glorious," he whispered hoarsely, "you and your dress." He cleared his throat softly, before holding out his arm, elbow bent. "Shall we?" She lightly settled her hand beneath his elbow, nodding slightly.

"We shall give the gossips much to talk about, won't we?" Adelaide grinned up at him as they started down the stairs. "Arriving late, leaving early, you disappearing on the morrow? Should I haunt the Keep's ramparts at night, while you're gone? I could wail and cry in the middle of the night. I bet I wail quite well."

Sebastian coughed slightly. "I think there have been a few too many things in your life, as late, to have inspired wailing." His far hand reached over and gently patted her fingers, before returning to rest by his side. "Wouldn't want anyone to wonder if you're really crazy, rather than graced with a very poor sense of humor."

"That was a laugh you just smothered!" She nudged him gently with her elbow. "If I have a very poor sense of humor, you do too."

"What? No, that was a cough. Definitely a cough, from all the, um..."

"Orana keeps this place spotless. You cannot blame imaginary dust."

"All the lack of incense? I'm used to incense. Even the Visitor's Quarters at the Chantry are imbued with brazier smoke."

"It soaks into the stone, doesn't it? I've always felt like it did, but no one else ever agreed with me." Adelaide came to a sudden stop in the foyer, just before the door, looking at Sebastian's face, desperate to read his expression. "You are staying with me, now? When you get back? Not the Chantry?"

"I will stay wherever you want me, for as long as you'll have me."

"Well." Adelaide sighed in relief. "That's all right then."

"You really have been spending a lot of time with Merrill, haven't you?"

"It's all Varric's fault. He worries when she spends too many days in her house, fussing with that mirror. Makes us all take turns dragging her out into the sunlight."

"Ah, yes." Sebastian nodded in agreement. "She comes to _lauds_ with me a few times a week. She says she likes the light at dawn. And that the music is pretty, even if the story doesn't make much sense."

Adelaide's light laugh filled the small room. "Somehow I doubt either of us will ever convince her Andraste was more than a pretty lady in an old tale."

"I would be content with convincing her blood-magic is too high a price to pay for her people's past," Sebastian countered softly.

Adelaide sighed in agreement. "Not a conversation for tonight, though." She turned toward the door again, a nervous frown creasing the middle of her brow.

"You're the guest of honor, Hawke. I don't think they'll throw you in the Gallows tonight."

"Gallows!" Adelaide clapped a hand over her mouth, as if to push the shout back in, eyes wide as she glared at Sebastian. "Right." She dropped her hand, continuing at a more normal volume. "Here I was worried about remembering which fork to use, or avoiding country dances, as I was almost literally raised in a barn at a few points. Thanks so much for adding potential incarceration to the list."

"You'll do fine. You'll probably set a new fashion or two, while you're at it."

"I hope not." Adelaide shuddered slightly. "Then I'll just have to come to more of these things."

"They're not all bad. Some wine, some food, some music..."

"Some nobles... bunch of whiny, arrogant..." Adelaide trailed off suddenly. "Present company excluded, of course."

"I did my share of complaining and posturing when I was younger." Sebastian nudged her gently outside, closing the door behind them. "Some of them have learned better as well."

"We'll see." She smiled up at him in the moonlight, taking one deep breath of the cool night air before turning to face the Keep, light spilling down the steps towards the Hightown courtyard.

Walking up the broad staircase was like travelling into a dream world, torches and lanterns flickering in the night, servants running back and forth, small groups of finely dressed nobles gathered by the columns lining the walk-way, music drifting out from the Keep itself.

"Finally!" They turned to see Seneschal Bran, hovering right by the first column on the left. "Arriving at the last minute. I just knew you'd have to push things, Hawke." He paused, suddenly giving an abrupt nod. "At least you and Vael look the part. And no staff or bow. Thank you." He spun sharply on his toes, and headed for the stairs without a single backward glance.

"I can never tell if he's just very busy," Adelaide whispered to Sebastian as they followed, "or if he really does despise me."

"I think you just ruin all his attempts at order." Sebastian's voice was equally low and quiet. "Which I do believe is part of your charm. Though I don't think he appreciates it the way I do."

"I would hope not!"

His fingers tightened around hers, a promise for later, and they swept their way into the festivities.

* * *

She'd been trying NOT to proposition the man for almost five years. Now that he was actually in her bedroom, she had no idea what to do with herself. Or him. And he'd been living in lay-quarters under a vow of chastity for, _what, fourteen years?_, so she doubted he had much of a plan either. _Then again, he has more actual experience then I do, even if it's not particularly recent._ Her hands clenched tightly in front of her stomach. _Maker's Breath, I'm nervous._

And there he was, her handsome Prince, kneeling in front of her, wrapping his strong hands around hers, dropping a kiss on her fingers. "If you're not ready, Adelaide, if this is too sudden, I understand."

"Four years, Sebastian. Nothing can be sudden after four years. I'm just... I don't... I mean..." She trailed off with a frustrated moan. _You're more important to me then anyone else I've ever known and I'm convinced I'm somehow going to ruin it all tonight sounds rather silly. Especially after asking you to stay._

For answer he leaned forward slightly, placing one soft kiss in the middle of her stomach, his hands sliding to hold her around her hips. Her eyelids fluttered, her hands gripping his shoulders, her breath suddenly so loud in her ears she barely heard him whisper. "Thank the Maker, I'm not the only one who's nervous."

She giggled slightly, before clapping both hands over her mouth to stop the noise. "That obvious, am I? I know I flirt with almost everyone, but I don't actually, you know, very often, that is... not that I've never, because, I mean, I had a friend in Lothering, and he was perfectly nice and all, but it was more a case of we were both tired of always being alone, and outsiders, plus that one time with Isabela, and I think the fact that I took her up on it surprised us both, and oh, why am I babbling again?"

"Shhh," his thumbs stroked gently as he tilted his head to smile at her, hands shifting softly against the silk of her dress, the room so quiet she could hear the rasp as the smooth fabric caught on the calluses across his fingertips. "I am weak man, but I must admit, the mental image of you and Isabela..." He shook his head slightly, a hint of a flush across his cheeks.

Adelaide smiled back, amusement helping to dispel the lingering confusing traces of unexpected shyness.

She could feel his breath catch as he looked up at her face, a moment of silence before he leaned back slightly and rose to his feet, balanced well enough on his toes that she felt not the slightest in crease in pressure on her hips. Though she was thoroughly distracted by the realization that she could see the muscles of his thighs shift underneath his leggings as he pushed himself up, blinking at him in surprise when he stopped moving. _Oh, look, his lips are right there... and they're moving. Wait. Talking. Sounds lovely. What did he say?_

"Though realizing I have the recent example of our intrepid Isabela to compare myself to is not easing my own nerves."

"Oh, that was years ago, right after we met. Not recent at all." _Not since I realized I was hopelessly infatuated with you._ "And why are you nervous? You've said that twice now. You used to do this all the time, didn't you?"

"It has been a long time since I bedded a women, Adelaide. And I've never done this. I never loved any of the women I knew before the Chantry, so I never really cared what they thought of me. But you..." his accent thickened slightly, adding to the weak feeling in her knees. "I want more then anything to make you happy."

_There are no words for how happy I am._ Adelaide leaned forward until her lips just barely reached his, her heart aching at the gentle touch, her lungs tight as they filled with the scent of the man before her, eyes blinking slowly as she leaned back again, the air rich and sweet, like she was drowning in mead. "You're doing a spectacular job so far, promise," she whispered huskily.

She wasn't sure if it was the kiss, or the words, or if her voice had much the same effect on him as his always did on her, but his arms were suddenly moving, breath audibly harsh in the back of his throat as he swept her up in his arms and strode towards the bed. "I can do better," he whispered roughly, though his motions were slow and controlled as he lowered her gently to rest on top of her comforter.

"Impossible," Adelaide mouthed back at him. _I could die happy, right now, as long as I was with him. Not that I want to die. Growing old together is a much better plan. Just in case someone's listening. No dying. Thanks._

"I must disagree," Sebastian's hand was warm against her cheek, a chuckle softening his face and voice. "Where did you just go?"

"Oh, well, happy and all, just... hoping this lasts for a very long time."

"A challenge, then? Questioning my performance before I've even started?"

"Not like th-! Well, not that I wouldn't enjoy, I mean-" Adelaide sputtered to a halt as Sebastian grinned at her from his perch on the side of the bed. "You are a wicked, devious man, you know that?"

"Only for you," his grin faded, his eyes darkening as his gaze rested on her face. "Always for you."

"Always?" She sat up at the same time as he leaned forward.

"Always," he whispered into her mouth, but she forced herself to turn her head before their lips met, knowing if he kissed her again she'd be lost.

"Sebastian, please," her voice cracked on the whisper. "Don't make promises. I'm a mage. And everyone knows I'm a mage. Consort to a Prince, even without marriage, is much too close to magic ruling over man, and you know it. The Chantry could declare an Exalted March on Starkhaven." She forced herself to turn her head again, to look him in the eyes. "I could not bear being the reason your people suffered again."

"The only thing you rule over is my heart." Sebastian slid his fingers over hers, his expression serious. "And after everything and everyone I've lost, I could not bear to give that up. Not even for Starkhaven."

Eyes closed to hold in hot tears, Adelaide squeezed tightly on the hands within her grasp. "We may not have a choice." _Both our families, gone, all gone. I would not survive losing you too. But oh, I can see a world where I may have to try..._

"And if you have to leave, I may have to let you go." His grip was just as tight as hers, his voice thick with answering sorrow, filling her heart until it ached. "Though I will do everything in my power to prevent that. I will always be with you, if I can. If I fail, I will still love you, and I will miss you 'til my dying day. Always."

She sensed him shift beside her, lean closer. And then his lips were on her neck, his tongue tracing a path down to her shoulder as her body leaned towards him. The warmth of his mouth lifted slightly, the heat of his breath soft against her collarbone, starting a shiver that fled down her body all the way to her toes. "Forget about the future, love. For now, at least."

He lifted his head to kiss her again, and it was easy enough to do as he asked, to lose herself in him, in silk and velvet slowly removed, the feel of skin on skin, the heat of his breath and his brogue and his body. One perfect night, at least, no matter what the future would bring, one night of pleasure, and love, and falling asleep with his arm around her shoulder, legs brushing together, the beat of his heart beneath her ear, the hard muscles of his chest the best pillow she'd ever had.


	6. if all survive

Originally written for minorearth/seimaisin's birthday, reposted in honor of ms-chignon's lovely art, an AU wherein both Hawke twins survived.

* * *

The ogre hadn't killed him.

Quite.

They had to carry him out of the Wilds though, awkwardly balanced between two mis-matched sisters. Carver always had been the tallest.

Bethany couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but wait by his side. Carver was supposed to be the hands to her heart, the heart to her head, the spine behind her smile.

He wasn't supposed to be half broken and pale, each breath a whistle she could hear in her sleep, as he desperately fought for each heartbeat in the hold of the ship from Gwaren.

Mother nursed him, kept him clean and fed despite Lowtown's slime and Gamlen's dirt. Bethany wanted to, but she had a debt to pay, servitude to Meeran for the privilege of their new life of back-breaking drudgery.

He yelled at her, every morning after she'd staggered back home, for wasting her magic on him.

It was such a relief to hear him grumble though, she always laughed, the familiar tug of magic swirling around her hands to settle in his chest a comfort and a delight, no matter how sore her shoulders and feet from a night spent fighting.

It meant they were both still here, still strong.

Still together.

It only took a few months to get him back on his feet. Marian took them both out to the Wounded Coast every other day, gave Carver enough room to swing a sword, to start getting himself back in shape again.

At the rate he was going, he'd be free to join them when they went freelance, after their year of service was up. There were rumours already building about the Tethras expedition. If they were lucky, (and the eldest Hawke was very good at making luck), they might be able to get in on it.

"Maker preserve the Deep Roads then," Carver joked, a rasp still hiding behind his laugh, though it got fainter every day. "They won't know what hit them, not with three Hawkes on the rampage."


	7. Whispers

_A/N: This was my entry for the Dragon Age Asunder writing challenge on the BSN, something that had to be about a mage or a templar. And for once in my life I was well under the word limit, instead of suffering massive scope creep. *laughs* _

_Summary:_

_The voices that hover on the edges of hearing whisper to us in the night. In that instant between day and night, between sleep and wakefulness, we are vulnerable. Thoughts of temptation and duty, conscience and fear. And underneath, a boiling, bubbling, yearning desire to be free._

**_Whispers_**

[[MORE]]I am tired.

I am tired of having to force myself to go to sleep at night.

_Don't you like your dreams? I build them just for you._

I am tired when I wake up.

_I am always here for you, not just in your sleep._

I am so tired my arms are sore when I lift them to pull a scroll down off a shelf to study. They shake when I carry a pile of books back to the library after class.

_Why carry them? Burn them all, fire and ash. I can teach you things you'll never find in any book._

Sometimes my elbows crack as I force my hands to move, book after book, straightening everything, my assigned chore before I'm allowed to sup.

_They claim it's a reward, letting you work in the library rather than the kitchens, the stables, the laundry. Just for the good ones. But what sort of reward, to taunt you with so many stories from the world they'll never let you see? So cruel. Such punishment. How they must hate you._

_I would never be so cruel. I would never hate you._

I'm tired of pretending I want to eat. The food is all the same. The effort of lifting a spoon, of swallowing, of pretending to listen, to talk, to force a smile, a laugh. To complain about the lectures. The food. To blend in with the other apprentices.

_Let me hold you. Rest on me, and you'll never have to pretend again._

But the Templars watch us, even there, and I dare not let my exhaustion show.

That way lies the brand. A smooth, calm face. A voice, empty of inflection, emotion. No more desires.

No more dreams.

_I knew you liked them. Just for you. All for you._

Every morning, I recite it in my mind, to make sure I do not forget, even if I do not always believe. Even though I've lost track of the things I used to like to do, hidden in a dull grey fog of aching worry and fear, I try and remember. If I say it enough, maybe I'll convince myself. Make it true again.

I do not want to die.

_We could live forever._

I do not want to fade.

_We would burn so bright. Brighter than the stars. Bright as the heart of a fire._

I do not want the false life, the lie that is Tranquility.

_I would never try and quiet your voice. Scream with me._

But I do not want to live either.

Not like this.

Not afraid of the shadows in the hall. Not constantly reminding myself how to walk. How to breathe.

_I will free you from your fear._

I have to pretend I'm just like everyone else. No one can know that the whispers aren't just in my dreams, anymore. I don't remember why, but the whispers are bad.

Aren't they?

_Of course not. Who else is always here for you? I am your dearest, closest friend._

Then one morning, the litany fails me. I tell my legs to move. My head to rise. My arms to push back the covers. But all those things seem like so much work, with such little reward. If I do those things, what do I get? I still have to walk across the room. Open the wardrobe. Find my robe. Put it on. Fold my night-shirt. Put it under my pillow. Pull up my sheet. Then my blanket. Smooth the bed.

The prospect is terrifying. I am so weary of fighting. Such a list, so many things to do, and I won't even have made it to the hallway yet.

If I do make it to the hallway, what then? So many steps, across cold stone floors. Stairs. And more stairs, following the noise to the dining hall. Other people's steps. Other people's voices. The clank of dishes, the bubbling of the water they keep boiling for tea. So many people eating in one small room is loud, but not loud enough to drown out the whispers. The ones that aren't people.

_And what have your people ever done for you? You are so much better than them._

Breakfast, where I'll have to deal with the pressure of all those people. Eyes, everywhere. Watching. Always, always watching. I can feel them, each glance, butterflies against my skin, all day, every day.

_We could pluck their eyes from their sockets. No one would ever look at you without your permission again._

No. That's wrong. Isn't it? Not natural. Not normal.

I used to be normal. What is normal?

_Weak. Ignorant._

I want to be normal. Don't I?

_Embrace strength. Knowledge._

Would I even recognize it, if I saw it?

_I can give you such power. I can grant you such sights. You'd need never look for 'normal' again._

"Maker, though the Darkness comes upon me,  
I shall embrace the light."

There is no light, here, deep between stone walls and metal, surrounded by armor and wards.

_We could tear down these walls. No one would ever be in the dark again._

"Maker, though I walk through the shadows at the edge of the Void..."

I can't remember the next part.

I am just so tired.

I am too tired to sleep.

I am too tired to wake up.

I close my eyes.

Footsteps. They found me. They're going for a Healer.

One look, and they'll know there's nothing wrong with me.

Physically.

And then they'll call the Templars.

I open my eyes, but all I can see is the dark sunburst that will end it all. Cold iron made hot, lyrium searing my forehead, my mind.

Peace. Quiet. Cool darkness, everywhere. Forever.

For the first time in weeks, I can feel something besides fear and worry. Cold, slick horror coats my throat, nausea twisting low in my stomach.

_I can make the pain go away._

They'll make the pain go away.

I don't want the pain to go away.

There are worse things than pain.

_We can make them hurt, instead._

I have to choose.

The brand. No more waiting, no more worries, no more cares.

_Condemned to nothing, all the rest of your days._

Or the whisper, promising passion and pain and fire.

_Power. Freedom. Revenge._

I can hear footsteps getting nearer. Voices moving down the hallway.

My time has run out.

_Choose._

I reach for the fire.


	8. test of character

_Morrigan and Jowan for ms-chignon_

* * *

Morrigan had no use for the weak or incompetent.

Meeting a man in jail for failing to either follow orders or break free on his own rather implied he was both.

And yet he followed them inside, after his friend told him to flee.

Morrigan did not understand Surana. Didn't think she ever would. The elf despised blood magic, but was glad to see her friend, an admitted maleficar. Surana obviously enjoyed being free under the stars, endlessly looking around, asking questions, wanting more and more and even more, and yet she liked the almost Templar, asked him if he knew what to do 'if something went wrong' while they were traveling.

Seemed more relieved than otherwise when he grudgingly admitted that he probably did.

Just another reason to avoid the idiot Warden. Surana might not make much sense, but she wasn't stupid.

And despite having been caught, having submitted time and time again to someone else's power, Jowan obviously wasn't either. Not when he showed up again, and gave them another way to fight the demon.

She could respect him for that. Almost admire a man who kept trying, no matter how many times everything went wrong.

She hoped she'd manage the same, when all her secrets finally came out.


	9. Sunshine

_arbryna and I are both in love with Isabela. She requested some Isabela. F!Hawke, Bethany, alcohol, whatever ... anything beyond Isabela was optional. I opted for Bethany/Isabela. 3_

* * *

Varric called her Sunshine.

The first time Isabela met Hawke's younger sister, she wasn't quite sure why; the girl was quiet and shy, and if Isabela was just a touch less observant of the people around her, she might have missed seeing Bethany at all before the mage slid gracefully behind her elder brother.

But Isabela did see her move, noticed the grace, and the swing of dark hair, and made sure to catch the girl's eyes.

And then Bethany smiled.

_Oh._

Sunshine indeed. And definitely not a girl. A woman's curves, a woman's skin, a woman's interest warming soft brown eyes.

Isabela smiled back.


	10. Tranquility

jathis requested "tranquil romance"

* * *

She remembered that she'd once craved his touch, the two of them sneaking into storerooms or hiding behind bookshelves in search of a few blissful moments of privacy.

She remembered how she'd screamed, clawed at the arms of the Templars holding her when she'd seen the sunburst on his forehead.

But now she had one too, and neither of them craved anything, anymore. Neither of them screamed, or clawed, or cried.

They still talked, during the day. She could still appreciate his wit, the turn of his mind as they discussed their duties, the habits of the mages and Templars around them.

And at night, they would still find a quiet room alone, cool fingers brushing along smooth skin until muscles warmed, and tensed. A body functioned better when it was properly sated.

Such a logical approach to sex seemed to make the rest of the Circle uncomfortable, however, so still they kept themselves hidden. It was much easier, now, without stuttering heartbeats and flushing cheeks to give them away.


	11. a warrior's soul

pemA series of ficlets/scenes (and a bit of dialogue) for Carver Hawke. They all take place in the same head-canon version of DA2 that created Adelaide Hawke, for those keeping track. Inspiration artwork froma href=" .com"ms-chignon/a anda href=" post/24531747716/you-didnt-think-id-come-back-with-empty-hands" target="_blank"takityphoon/a, as well as an anonymous prompt or two./em/p  
pem[[MORE]]***/em/p  
pHe never really got over the feel of Ferelden. /p  
pEven when surrounded by white walls and stone steps, the sounds of the chains creaking in the bay on a quiet night at the docks, he always still felt like there was mud under his nails. The kind you got from plowing and weeding and planting, the kind that never completely washed away, no matter how much you scrubbed./p  
pNo matter how good you got with a sword, you were always still a farmboy underneath it all./p  
p***/p  
pAs far as he could tell, his mother was just as miserable now as she had been in the Wilds, on the way to Gwaren, stuck interminably on ship, waiting again in the Gallows, trying to settle at Uncle Gamlen's. And yet she kept coming back. Once a week, as unavoidable as sunset, attend a Chant, light two candles, pray for Father and Bethany./p  
pHe escorted her, every week, and managed not to scowl too much./p  
pBut it certainly didn't help him feel better./p  
pBethany had always had the nicest singing voice in the family./p  
div***/div  
pThe lone blade in a house of mages. /p  
pThe lone man surrounded by women. /p  
pThe lone half of a set, broken and off balance. It hurt to breathe, as if he'd lost half his lungs along with half his heart and half his soul. /p  
pIt hurt to wake up, every morning, in a house with too few women in it./p  
pHe thought he felt lost when Father died. But even if he didn't know where he was going, he kept moving forward. Somewhere, somehow, one boot in front of the other. emBethany rolling her eyes behind his back, smiling oh so extra sweetly whenever he turned around./em/p  
pNow, though, he wasn't going anywhere, circling and spiraling tighter and tighter into the dregs of Kirkwall./p  
pHe missed singed socks, from when she got mad at him./p  
pHe missed lumpy soup for dinner, from when she'd been paying more attention to her book than her cooking./p  
pHe missed her giggle when she was teasing, the flash of her eyes when he attempted to tease back and always,/emannoyed the calm right out of her./p  
pHe'd always been rather proud that he was the only one who could always make her mad. emNot as smooth and calm as you think you are, hmm sister?/em/p  
pShe'd been the only one who could always make him laugh, the only one who didn't care that he seldom said the right thing, the only one who always forgave him. For everything./p  
pHe wasn't supposed to be alone./p  
p***/p  
pemNotes:/em/p  
pemIn my personal head-canon, before/during Act 1, Sebastian is still serving as a Brother in the Chantry, and the Duty quest line actually takes place between acts. Cause otherwise hed presumably be a party member and fighting mercenaries in Act 1. :P/em/p  
p***/p  
p"Brother Sebastian, is it?" Carver scowled, reminding himself not to actually slump against the wall. They frowned on that, the Priests, as if the stone cared about his shoulders. /p  
p"Yes?" The man in robes,emsilly looking things, robes, you'd think they'd tangle around people's knees,/emturned from whatever boring Chantry thing he'd been doing. His turn stopped, a hand's-width sooner than looked natural, and blinked. "Do I know you, serah?"/p  
p"Course not." emVoid. Even the stupid Brother's thinks I look like m'sister's over-sized shadow./em "Pretty sure you've met my sister though."/p  
p"Hawke?"/p  
pCarver snorted. emAlways Hawke. Like there aren't two other people with the same blasted last name. /em"That's the one."/p  
p"Is she -" The Brother took a half-step forward, then stopped again. "Is there something I can do for you, Serah Hawke?"/p  
p"Just running errands for Lirene."emLittle friendly blackmail between siblings. I help with Lirene, she doesn't ask where I spend my evenings./em"Wondered if you had the next crate of donations ready for her."/p  
p"By yourself?"/p  
p"What, think I can't lift it?"/p  
p"Of course not, it's mostly clothes. But it's rather too large to handle easily. You wouldn't have your hands free." His chin tilted slightly, and it took Carver a moment to realize he was aiming his gaze at the sword hilt over his shoulder. "An unpleasant proposition, in Lowtown, not being able to reach one's weapons."/p  
p"I can take care of myself. Not like I have to make it to Darktown."/p  
pThe Brother's eyes widened in disagreement, his expression suddenly remarkably similar to one of Adelaide's favouriteemdid you really think I'd believe that story?/emfaces. /p  
pemNo wonder she likes him. Can be bossy little prigs together, singing the Chant at people whether they want to hear it or not./em/p  
p"No reason not to take precautions. I can walk with you, it's no trouble."/p  
p"You?" emRobes aren't gonna do you a bit of good against a pig-sticker./em/p  
p"Certainly. If you'll wait, just a moment."/p  
pIt took a bit longer than a moment, but Carver was rather sure if he didn't bring the blasted crate back to Lirene's before dusk, he'd have his sister or her dog on his heels for the rest of his life, and too much of that made it hard for a man to breathe./p  
pemNot that she thinks I'm a man. Still treats me like I'm twelve. Only with a better sword for hitting bandits with./em/p  
pHe finally heard the man's footsteps returning, only to witness a shiny white ponce carting a crate towards him. /p  
p"After you, Serah Hawke." /p  
pCarver snorted, shaking his head as he headed towards the door. "Here I thought you were trying to make me less of a target," he muttered softly. Softly enough the Brother probably didn't hear him. emAt least it's armour, I suppose? /emHopefully they wouldn't have to test out how useful either the armour or the Brother wearing it really was in a fight./p  
p***/p  
pAdelaide Hawke had always loved her baby brother,emeven when she sort-of hated him/em, and had always been impressed by his strength and skill,emeven when she wished he was a little more fragile so it would hurt when she smacked him./em/p  
pBut the look on his face, finding her in one piece during all this craziness, was the first time she/emhow much he loved her too, as adults, respect and honour and trust./p  
pOf course, she rather wrecked the pleasant moment by squealing at him and wrapping him up in a hug like he was five again, but his rolled eyes and grumbles were much less serious than they'd been a few years gone, his arms tight around her as he hugged her back./p  
pemIt's good to be alive, better still to know you're always out there too./em/p  
pem***/em/p  
p"It'll be alright." Carver squatted down to Daryn's eye-level, feeling the movement in his knees as he never would've back when they lived at Uncle Gamlen's./p  
pWardening was hard on a man, hard on the blood and the bones, and the ache in your joints never went away, even when you took the armour off and snuck back home for a visit./p  
pNot that it was a pleasant visit./p  
pemAs if Hawkes were ever good at pleasant./em/p  
pThe mabari tilted his head, willing to listen, though his eyes were dark and sad./p  
p"She'll be alright. Anders says so."/p  
pCarver was surprised to feel himself grin when Daryn huffed out a loud grunt. Apparently the mabari hadabout Anders. /p  
p"He's complicated, Daryn. Part mage, part Warden, part who knows what. But he really is a good healer."/p  
pDaryn's soft whine was remarkably eloquent. Carver sighed, and collapsed all the way down to sit on the cellar floor. "Yeah, I know. Waiting. Dreadful. Never been good at it either." Something in his heart clenched in surprise when Daryn settled to the floor beside him, his giant head heavy against Carver's knee. "Why aren't you waiting with her anyways, boy?"/p  
pAnother huff, another unexpected smile. emGot kicked out of the bedroom, too, did you?/em/p  
p"I can't stay more than a day. I..." Carver swallowed, reaching out slowly until his hand hovered over Daryn's head, the slightest tremble shivering through his fingers. /p  
pDaryn lifted his head, smacking right against Carver's palm, and he felt the hot prickle in his eyes. "Maker, Daryn, why do these things keep happening to us? I mean, I couldn't stay in Kirkwall and help,emI couldn't/em, and how was I supposed to know she was going to fight the bloody Arishok?"/p  
pOf course she'd think that was a good idea, her staff against a giant horned monster, her life a worthwhile price to save Kirkwall./p  
pemBloody idiot./em/p  
p"She won't die on us, Daryn. I'm sure of it."/p  
pHe wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself, or the mabari. quite sure he hadn't managed it for either of them. Carver's fingers scratched gently against the hard skull under wiry fur, and they both sighed./p  
pemBack to waiting./em/p  
divem***/em/div  
div  
p"But I don't want to start a war, Carver!"/p  
p"I bet you also don't want your Chantry Prince to die protecting you from the crazy Knight-Commander, now do you?"/p  
pAdelaide felt her mouth drop open, just a little, unsure if she was more embarrassed or startled or embarrassed or,emyeah, blushing now/em./p  
p"When did Junior get so smart?" Varric slapped Carver on the back, the sort of hard swing that usually made someone stumble, the dwarf being even stronger than he looked, (emand he looks rather like a hurricane wouldn't knock him over/em). /p  
pCarver didn't even have to shift his weight, though. "I was always smart." He shrugged slightly. "I was just too busy complaining for anyone to notice."/p  
pAdelaide snorted softly. "Even you?"/p  
pShe was delighted to see a hint of a smile as he looked back at her. "Even me."/p  
p"Glad we cleared that up then." Varric shifted Bianca higher up on his shoulder. "Can we go stop people from killing us now?"/p  
p"Just like old times." Carver's smile broadened./p  
p"Better, this time." Adelaide grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly. "Thank you, brother."/p  
pHe squeezed back, hard enough she had to shake her fingers to get the feeling back when he let go, suddenly possessed of the urge to stick her tongue out at him, just like when they children. He winked, obviously recognizing her expression, then turned and followed Varric out of the Court./p  
pThere was probably something wrong with her, to be smiling at such a moment, but it was good to have him back, even if for just a little while./p  
/div


End file.
